by June Francis
Wendy’s smile vanished. ‘You’re not regretting giving Cedric up, are you?’
‘No! He didn’t like it, though,’ said Hester. ‘He’s a liar and I can’t abide liars. He’s what Charley would call a rotten egg.’
Wendy stared at her. ‘Are you going to tell me why you say that?’
Hester hesitated. ‘Sam told me he’s under investigation. I know he’s lied to me, and not only to me. But worse than that was when I had that rotten cold, he asked our Jeanette to go to the pictures with him in my place!’ Her voice rose with indignation. ‘Now don’t you think that’s definitely unacceptable behaviour? Besides, any decent caring bloke would have taken a risk and come to see how I was.’
‘I’m sure Ally would have,’ said Wendy. ‘What did Cedric lie to you about?’
‘His mother. He makes her his excuse for not being places when all the time she’s dead.’
Wendy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re joking!’
‘No, honestly. When I started going out with him, our Sam made enquiries about him. He used to be a member of the Liverpool force before he went to Bootle and some of the PCs remembered him. Apparently he used to live with his mother but she died and he took time out to attend her funeral.’
‘That’s really, really odd,’ murmured Wendy. ‘Who’d lie about their mother like that?’
Hester nodded. ‘Sam reckons it’s to give himself an alibi.’
‘How does Sam work that out? If it was checked out, it would be known his mother is dead.’
‘I know! It could be he thinks nobody would check whether he has a sick old mother. He could be using her to take suspicion away from what he’s doing when he’s supposed to be with her.’
‘Did Sam find out anything else about him?’
‘Apparently he has an eye for the girls, and his beat when he was in Liverpool was the Canning Street district.’
Wendy took a deep breath. ‘Seamen’s Club and prostitutes. He could have been accepting backhanders to turn a blind eye or taking advantage of what’s on offer.’
Hester nodded. ‘The thought had crossed my mind, although I admit I didn’t want to believe it. It bothers me that my judgement was way out when I agreed to go out with him. Anyway, the ball’s in Bootle division’s court now.’
They were both silent for several moments. Then Hester said, ‘Before I forget, I must tell you that Ally’s met Cedric. Remember that accident between the bus and the car? He was the soldier who was on the scene and helped out. How’s that for a coincidence?’
Wendy’s eyes sparkled. ‘Well, his dad and uncle lived here in Liverpool, didn’t they? You could have easily bumped into Ally anywhere in town.’ She dunked a fig roll into her tea. ‘It seems that you and he were fated to meet. How did he react when you told him you’d been out with Cedric?’
‘I don’t think he was pleased, but he behaved in a civilized manner. After all, it was our very first date and he was returning to Germany. Even so, I’m sure he didn’t take to Cedric – and, thinking about it, his judgement was better than mine.’
‘A bit of competition makes a bloke all the keener,’ said Wendy. ‘You’ll see – Ally’ll be in touch. He obviously likes you,’ she added, offering the plate of fig rolls. ‘And hopefully you won’t hear from Cedric ever again.’
Hester bit into a fig roll, hoping Wendy was right and remembering how Ally had said that he could easily fall in love with her. ‘Ally and I both like musicals and he has a sense of humour.’
‘And Cedric doesn’t?’ asked Wendy with a smile.
Hester rolled her eyes.
‘What about your Sam and Dorothy Wilson? Are they still in touch?’
‘Yes, but if it’s love between them it’s not going smoothly,’ said Hester. ‘She’s away so much.’
‘The woman’s a fool! A gorgeous bloke like your Sam and she’s not spending every second she can with him,’ cried Wendy.
Hester sighed. ‘I understand why you’re saying that, but I like her and I think she has a right to follow her star. Even so, he could do with getting married and having a home of his own and kids.’
Wendy agreed. ‘Someone has to give in and do what the other one wants if a marriage is to work.’ She did not wait for Hester to come back at her about that but said, ‘What about your Jeanette?’
‘Our Jeanette!’ Hester groaned. ‘I don’t know where to start with our Jeanette.’ And she proceeded to tell Wendy all about the Stadium episode and their great-aunt being convinced that Jeanette was the long-lost granddaughter of a wealthy suffragette who had recently died.
Wendy laughed about the latter, but just like Hester was concerned about the attack on Jeanette and the stabbing of the doorman. ‘You have to find that Billy. He’s trouble with a capital T. You haven’t heard the end of him. You need to keep your eye on her.’
‘Can’t do that all the time,’ said Hester, draining her teacup. ‘So tell me, how’s married life treating you when Charley’s not telling you what to do?’
Wendy proceeded to advocate the marital state, obviously convinced that a husband was what Hester needed to be truly content. This despite the fact that Wendy was obviously not completely fulfilled being a stay-at-home wife. Hester sighed and thought of her brother and Dorothy. She found it hard to imagine Dorothy ever willingly giving up her career for the love of Sam, and wondered why it seemed so hard for men and women to achieve a successful compromise. Was it one she would be called upon to make herself one day?
Eighteen
It was not until Monday morning that Jeanette accepted that her punishment could have been a lot worse. She might have the beginnings of housemaid’s knee and her hands looked little better than wrinkled monkey’s paws despite her having rubbed lemon and glycerine into them, but she still had her Saturday job. Her father had not insisted on her giving in her notice.
And she had been able to catch up on a few things over the weekend, such as writing a rough draft of the notice she planned to put in the Echo about her missing mother. She had also recovered somewhat from the shock of Billy almost throttling her. The news that the doorman had recovered consciousness and been able to give the police a description of his assailant had made her feel better; she had been so worried he might die.
Hester had come with her on the bus to work, and Jeanette suspected that her half-sister would do this as often as she could until Billy was caught. They spoke scarcely at all. Hester seemed to have a lot on her mind.
When Jeanette entered the office, humming the latest hit in the pop charts, the other typist was already putting up the ships’ arrivals and departures on the board. She glanced over her shoulder at Jeanette. ‘You sound cheerful.’
‘The fog’s lifted, that’s why, and it looks like the sun’s going to come out.’
‘That wind’s sharp, though,’ said Elsie, ‘and have you heard about the Royal Iris and the Egremont colliding at Seacombe in the fog?’
Jeanette thought of Jimmy. ‘Was anyone hurt? I know someone who works on the ferries.’
‘I don’t think so. It says that the boats were only slightly damaged.’
‘That’s a relief. Even so . . .’
Elsie stared at her. ‘Even so . . . what?’
‘I might nip down to the landing stage in my lunch hour and see if I can find out anything more,’ said Jeanette.
The door opened even as she spoke. ‘Find out about what?’ asked Peggy, standing in the doorway.
Jeanette told her.
‘I’ll go with you. I’ve something I want to discuss,’ said Peggy. ‘See you later.’
Jeanette guessed that Peggy knew about the incident at the Stadium and her possible involvement. The dockers having returned to work a while ago, Jeanette spent a very busy morning typing out bills and letters. By the time her lunch hour arrived, she was ready for a break. She met Peggy downstairs and they headed for the river.
Jeanette did not have long to wait before her friend said, ‘It’s all over the neighbourho
od that Billy’s wanted for stabbing the doorman at the Stadium.’
‘Did your Marty tell you he took me there and I saw Billy?’ said Jeanette, instinctively glancing behind her at the sheer mention of her attacker’s name.
A serious-faced Peggy shook her head. ‘It was Bernie who told me. She turned up at our house Saturday morning, wanting to know all about you. I was really annoyed with you for not telling me anything about it, so I put her straight where you were concerned.’
‘What d’you mean by that?’ asked Jeanette.
Peggy smiled. ‘I told her she had nothing to fear as you fancied someone else. Afterwards I spoke to our Marty and he told me it was a put-up job to make Bernie jealous, so all’s well that ends well. They’ve kissed and made up and I wouldn’t be surprised if they got engaged at Christmas.’
‘Well, good luck to them both,’ said Jeanette, although she almost felt sorry for Marty because Bernie had real claws.
She and Peggy walked on in silence for a few minutes before Peggy said, ‘So what happened after you scarpered?’
‘Billy surprised me outside the Stadium and—’ Jeanette broke off abruptly, reliving those moments.
Peggy stared at her. ‘You’ve lost your colour! You don’t have to tell me what happened if it’s too upsetting.’
‘He attacked me! Nearly choked the life out of me,’ said Jeanette rapidly. ‘I managed to kick him in the shins and . . . and the . . . the doorman – I reckon he saved my life. I . . . I didn’t see what happened between them because I just beat it out of there. But was I in trouble when I got home!’
‘You poor thing,’ said Peggy, squeezing her arm. ‘But you’re OK now?’
‘Beyond being terrified he might attack me again? Yes.’
‘He’s not going to touch you,’ said Peggy comfortingly. ‘He knows they’d get him for it. He’ll keep his head down and try and get on a boat to his relatives in Ireland if he’s got any sense. He might have done that already.’
Jeanette remained silent. She just wanted her life to get back to normal and Billy caught and punished.
They came to the landing stage where surprisingly there were plenty of people about despite the chill breeze. As it happened, a ferry boat had just come in and Jeanette was able to ask one of the crew about the collision. He knew Jimmy and was able to reassure her that he was all right.
They made their way to a bench under cover and sat down to eat their sandwiches and watch the ships coming and going on the river.
‘Pity we couldn’t see Jimmy,’ said Jeanette. ‘We could have asked him about the twins.’
‘One of those twins wouldn’t be me, would he?’ said a voice behind them.
The girls’ heads turned and they saw Pete standing there. ‘Have you come to have the cobwebs blown away too?’ asked Peggy, smiling up at him.
He rested both hands on the back of the bench and agreed that it was windy. Peggy said softly, ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
‘No room,’ he said.
Instantly Peggy moved her bag and Jeanette shifted over. He came round and sat between them. ‘So how have things been with you two?’
‘Jeanette was attacked on Friday by the bloke who used the bicycle chain in the chippy,’ said Peggy.
Pete stared at Jeanette. ‘Bloody hell!’
She felt herself begin to tremble inside. ‘I know, it was really scary. Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it, so I’m going for a walk.’ She stood up and almost ran from them. She hoped neither would follow her. She still had her sandwich in her hand and ate it as she walked along the landing stage until she arrived at the place where the Isle of Man boats docked. There was one tied up and so she stood gazing up at it and noted it was named Mona’s Isle.
‘Hey there!’ shouted a voice.
Startled, Jeanette tilted her head even further back and saw a sailor leaning over the side of the ship on what must have been the top deck. She could not make out his features because the sun was shining in her face. ‘Were you talking to me?’ she called, shading her eyes with a hand.
‘I am that. Could you wait there until I come down?’
‘Could you give me a good reason why I should?’ Even as Jeanette spoke, she realized that she was wasting her time because the sailor had vanished. For a few moments she stood there indecisively and then turned and looked at the clock on the Liver building. Really, she shouldn’t be wasting her time standing here.
She began to walk slowly back the way she had come, only to pause when she heard someone shouting her name. She turned and saw a man running towards her. It was only when he was about a couple of feet away from her that she was able to see the scar on his cheek. Her heart began to thud.
‘It’s Jeanette, isn’t it?’ he asked, smiling. She was in such a state of shock that for a moment she could not speak. His smile faded. ‘Don’t you recognize me?’
‘You . . . you look different.’ Her voice was strained.
‘Ugly, you mean,’ he said.
‘No, don’t alter my words!’ she said hoarsely. ‘The last time I saw you, you were wearing a sou’wester, you were soaking wet and your face was bleeding and dark with streaks of oil.’
His eyes hardened. ‘I haven’t forgotten. That sou’wester didn’t do anything for me. I looked like the old seafarer on the Skippers’ sardine tin.’
‘No, you’re exaggerating,’ she said swiftly. ‘He’s much older and has a big bushy beard and—’ She stopped. ‘You’re joking, when really there was nothing to joke about then. Your poor face . . .’ She reached up to touch it and then withdrew her hand slowly. ‘Does it still hurt?’
‘Don’t be daft, lovey. It’s months ago now.’ His serious, grey blue eyes searched her countenance. ‘I recognized you almost immediately. You stood there, just staring, and I thought, It can’t be her! Unless she’s come looking for me.’
‘I didn’t know you were on this ship,’ blurted out Jeanette. ‘But I did want to see you again. I asked the priest about you and he told me why you were in such a rush that night. More recently I discovered that your mother had moved to Liverpool to live with her sister and that you were a sailor, just as I thought. I had wanted him to give you my address and for you to write to me. I was worried about you, you see.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, lovey. I didn’t speak to the priest because the ship was ready to sail. It was a quick turnaround. I asked a mate to deliver a message for me. When he got no answer at the priest’s house, he told me he just scribbled off a note and pushed it through the letterbox. Later I got in touch with my mother and asked her if she could sort things out, but obviously she didn’t. She’s not been herself since Dad died and she gets forgetful.’
‘I’m sorry about your father and your mother,’ said Jeanette. ‘I wish I could talk more now but I have to get back to work.’
‘But we must meet again,’ he said firmly, his eyes gleaming. ‘I was planning on treating you to some fish and chips next time I saw you.’
‘Tha-that would be nice,’ said Jeanette, unable to tear her eyes away from his.
‘I’d have liked to have done that now, but as you say you’ve got work and we’ll be sailing soon. My name is David, by the way,’ he said. ‘David Bryn Jones.’
She smiled. ‘I knew about the David and the Jones but not the Bryn. Father Callaghan told me your name.’
‘Good.’ He returned her smile. ‘How about the weekend? I’ll be back here then and will have a twenty-four-hour shore leave.’
She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady the nerves in her stomach. ‘OK! Time and place?’
He thought a moment. ‘The Titanic Memorial, Sunday afternoon at three o’clock.’
‘OK.’ Whatever might happen in the meantime, she determined to be there. She glanced up at the clock on the Liver building. ‘I’ll have to go.’
David reached out a hand to her and she placed her hand in his. ‘See you then, Jeannie with the light brown hair and green ey
es,’ he said softly.
She smiled. ‘See you, David Bryn Jones.’
He squeezed her hand before releasing it. She hurried away, feeling as if her heels had wings – a description that fitted perfectly the floating sensation she was experiencing. It was so different from the fear that had gripped her such a short while ago. She had found her David Jones and she did not know whether to tell Peggy that her search was over or keep it to herself.
‘You’re looking pleased with yourself,’ said Peggy, as she approached.
‘That’s because I am pleased with myself,’ said Jeanette. ‘Thanks for waiting. Pete gone back to work, has he?’
‘Yes. We’d better get a move on, too.’ Peggy sighed.
Jeanette stared at her. ‘You don’t look happy. What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t be daft! There’s obviously something wrong. Is it Pete?’
‘Yeah,’ said Peggy. ‘Although I do sympathize with him not being able to dance like his brother and do all the other activities he used to do, I can’t let that guide me. Anyway, there can be no future for him and me together.’
Jeanette was startled by the remark. ‘Does there have to be a future together for the two of you? I mean, I know you like him so what’s stopping you going out together?’
Peggy sighed again. ‘I find him really attractive, but he’s a Proddy like you. I’ve decided that I can’t afford to get involved. It could prove too painful . . .’ She let the sentence tail off and slipped her hand through Jeanette’s arm. ‘Shall we go? On the way you can tell me what got you smiling.’
‘I’ve found him,’ said Jeanette, a wobble in her voice.
‘Found who?’ asked Peggy.
‘Don’t be thick!’ cried Jeanette.
Peggy came to an abrupt halt. ‘David Jones?’
‘David Bryn Jones! And he recognized me from way up on the top deck of the Isle of Man boat.’
‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed Peggy, brushing a strand of hair blown by the wind from her eyes. ‘I suppose you’ll be seeing him again?’